


Where

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Hurt, M/M, Suicide Attempt, emotional exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 21:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Where do you go the morning after you tried to end your life?





	Where

There was what felt like a dry ball of fluff cloying Percival’s throat as he woke. The sunlight was soft through his half open curtains and the sound of the world going on outside his window was jarring. His eyes felt crusty with long dried unshed tears. The blankets were heavy and suffocating him despite only being laid lightly on top of him like a shroud which uncooperative limbs kicked off. With a slow groan of despair Percival pushed himself up and the world spun. The numerous empty bottles of sleeping potions and any other tinctures he’d found in his medicine cabinet the night before wavered before his focus settled. He shouldn’t have woken up. Percival’s bitter laugh sounded raw even to his own ears. The suicide note he’d written so meticulously the night before lay untouched among the bottles and he picked it up with a shaking hand. It went up in flames and he ignored the burns to his fingers. He couldn’t even succeed in dying. It was a thought that left him hollow and empty. He couldn’t defeat Grindelwald, couldn’t return to work as if nothing had happened, couldn’t make friends, and now he couldn’t even kill himself. A disgusted snort left him.

A look around the room left him at an absolute loss. Uncertainty of what to do washed over him. In his assuredness that he wasn’t going to see another morning his affairs were in order, there were even funds for a quick and quiet funeral set to the side. Percival also had the foresight to book a few days off to ensure nobody came rushing to his aid when he didn’t show up for work. All that planning, all that effort had been yet another waste. Another failure to add to his already long list. He didn’t even have the energy to flop back down onto the bed. The hollowness in his chest was quickly filled by a deep loathing that he couldn’t control. The tempest of emotions was quelled only by his exhaustion of existing and though the storm raged in him he couldn’t quite feel it anymore.

There was no telling how much time had passed that he just sat there on the side of his bed, eyes staring but not seeing. He’d been so certain that he’d taken enough potions to finally let him drift off to sleep and not wake up. It had sounded like such a relief, the idea that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again. Of finally being able to be nothing, not have the expectations of others thrust upon him only to fail them over and over again. Still, there was no point in sitting around. With a tired sigh he pushed himself up off the bed and got ready for work. The few days off he’d booked could be changed, there was no point in him moping in his failed suicide attempt and staring at his clean house for days on end.

By the time he made it to work it was gone 11 o’clock. People gawked at him but he held his chin high as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Ten minutes after his unscheduled appearance at work things were back to how they used to be. People sought him out for signatures, to run things by him, to ask for advice. Nobody seemed to notice how it wasn’t really Percival in his chair anymore, but rather a hollow puppet going through the motions of being Percival. Not a single person asked him if he was okay, why his time off had been changed, whether the dark circles under his eyes meant he wasn’t getting enough sleep. The potions he’d stocked up had been prescribed by the healers to help with his nightmares, aid him through a night of calm sleep. When they didn’t work Percival stopped taking them but still collected them as though they helped. By that point Percival knew he had nothing left except for appearances.

His lunch hour was at one o’clock but he didn’t know what he wanted. Food didn’t appeal and he’d slowly realised over the course of the last few hours that he didn’t even have to keep up with appearances. Nobody cared he was there. Not beyond the fact that he made their jobs easier. They hadn’t noticed that Grindelwald had taken his place, they didn’t notice that he hadn’t intended on waking up that morning and that he didn’t want to be there anymore. So why on earth would they notice if he didn’t have lunch? It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

There was a soft knock on his door. Newt stuck his head through the door with a small smile. They’d been getting friendly, Percival felt he owed the man after everything with Grindelwald. The stranger who spotted that something was amiss. It made Percival think that his subordinates probably saw him as a stranger with a vague sense of familiarity that was enough to work around him but not with him. He was drawn from his downward spiral by Newt’s soft voice.

“I was going to suggest lunch together when I heard you were back. But perhaps you’d like to come down to my case instead?”

Percival nodded blindly, a file fell from his desk and papers scattered everywhere but he was too tired to deal with it. He didn’t even bother to glance at Newt who gave him a thoughtful look full of concern. The case was somewhere he’d visited maybe a handful of times before. It was as wild as the man who owned it, organised chaos reigned. There was colour and life and love in there, such a sharp contrast to his own life. His eyes stung as he walked out onto the porch of the shack. Try as he might he couldn’t blame it all on the sudden sunlight. A gentle hand on the small of his back guided him to a bench where Percival all but crashed down as everything he’d held at bay flooded through him. He didn’t sob, he didn’t even really cry, there were no more tears left. There was nothing left, he had given all he had, all he was and the world had bled him dry without hesitation.

When Newt suggested they return to Percival’s house it stirred up the closest thing to panic Percival had felt in a long time. He didn’t want Newt to see the empty bottles on his bedside cabinet, didn’t want him to see his latest failure in a long line of them. Least of all he didn’t want to see the pity and disgust on Newt’s face when the man realised exactly how pathetic the allegedly great Percival Graves was. Instead of fighting him Newt slid onto the bench next to him and pulled on Percival’s shoulders. Gently he guided the other man until he was half lying on the bench, back pressed into Newt’s chest. Fingers gently carded through his hair and Percival let his limbs fall heavy as his eyes slipped shut. It was the most relaxed and safe he’d felt in such a long time that he wouldn’t have minded in that moment if he fell asleep and not woke up again. For the first time in years he would have died a little more content.

**Author's Note:**

> Still on tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


End file.
